


The Villain of this Fable Is Not the Dragon

by WhyWhyNot



Series: There Are No Fairies In Those Tales [4]
Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Andrew Richter's A+ Parenting, Corpse Desecration, Dehumanization, Dissection, Dysfunctional Family, Infanticide, Unethical Experimentation, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27695836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyWhyNot/pseuds/WhyWhyNot
Summary: Andrew Richter is called to study a corpse, or, how Theresa came to live in the Tower of Cawthorn.Takes place a long time before No Princesses Were Harmed In the Making of This Tale.WARNING: This is significantly more fucked up than the rest of the series, and not reading this story should not impact your understanding of the rest of the series.
Relationships: Dragon & Andrew Richter
Series: There Are No Fairies In Those Tales [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966342
Comments: 40
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gerbilfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerbilfriend/gifts).



The dragon is dead.

There was no epic battle, no grand showdown, no tale of wits and bravery.

The dragon died of old age, or maybe of sickness.

Andrew looks down on the body of the beast, on its scales of iridescent gold, on its spread wings that wouldn’t fly anymore.

On its claws, and fangs, and mouth once full of fire.

The dragon is dead.

The University, in its wisdom, sent Andrew, along with a few other men, to the tower where it died. The beast is too big to bring back whole, but there is far too much to learn from it to simply leave it to rot.

Dragons are rare, and dead ones even more so.

There isn’t any time to waste. The beast was great, and its body is big, and he needs to remove and preserve the organs before death spoils them.

Knowledge is the future of mankind, and it is Andrew’s duty to to brings more to those who will come after him.


	2. Chapter 2

It takes several weeks but finally, the body of the beast is stripped to the bones.

It doesn’t mean it’s over.

First, Andrew takes the time to carefully draw the skeleton under various angles, as he did with the intact body, and at various state of removing the skin and flesh to reveal the muscles and organs.

Then, he takes the time to carefully label each bone, no matter how big or small, and sketches the way they fit together.

Finally, he plunges the bones in barrels full of water, and leave them to macerate so as to remove the last scrapes of muscles. Of course, it smells like the mouth of Hell and the breath of the Devil.

It also takes several months.

To pass the time, Andrew takes to exploring the tower, and the ruins of the surrounding castle. The dragon died there, yes, but it also _lived_ there before, and it’s environment might contain clues as to its life.

There are dungeons under the castle and, in one one them, atop a pile of soft fabrics, Andrew finds a dozen of strange leathery pouches. They’re about as big as human babies, with a soft, dusty pink color.

Before it died, the dragon laid eggs.


	3. Chapter 3

As the months pass, Andrew opens the eggs. One every month, to see the development of the unborn wyrmlings.

He puts them in large glass jars filled with the clear alcohol used for the preservation of specimens, and labels them carefully after screwing the lids hermetically shut.

There were eleven eggs, and the dragon was dead for two months, which means the eggs have an incubation period of about a year.

Ten months. Ten unborn wyrmlings in ten glass jars, labeled and sent to the University for study and display.

Ten months. Ten eggs opened, the pink leathery shell dried or preserved in in glass jars alike those containing their former occupants.

Ten eggs, out of eleven.

The last egg hatches.


	4. Chapter 4

The wyrmling is approximately the size of a big human baby, which is ridiculously small in comparison to its parent. It has a deep forest green color, contrasting with the warm gold of its eyes, and strangely underdeveloped wings. 

There are few, if any, observations of juvenile dragons. The wings might be normal, and develop later in life, or they might be a malformation.

Only time could tell.

The wyrmling doesn’t appear to mind the smallness of its wings, and attempts to explore the room around it. Its movements are uncoordinated at first, but quickly become more assured. Its eyes appear to be fully open.

A quick verification shows that the wyrmling is a female one.

It’s very small. Andrew can feel its bones, thin and delicate, under its scales.

It would be easy to kill it.

Andrew doesn’t. Not yet.

He will kill it before it becomes dangerous, of course, but before that, he might as well let it grow for a bit.

There is much to be learned there.


	5. Chapter 5

Although Andrew knows he shouldn’t get overly attached to the wyrmling, he still ends up taking the habit of talking to it.

It would be irresponsible to take the wyrmling to a town or village, and so Andrew elected to stay in the tower where the dragon died. It’s a lonely choice, but the knowledge it will bring will be worth it.

It’s still lonely, and the wyrmling is the only thing he can talk to.

So Andrew talks to the wyrmling. About his day. About his thoughts. About his work. He explains what he is doing, and what he is doing it for.

Andrew sketches the wyrmling, weighs it, measures it, and checks the thickness of its scales and the depth of its appetite, checks the growth of its wings, checks everything he can think of about its growth and behavior.

Andrew tells the wyrmling jokes, and anecdotes from his youth, rambles at length on improperly calibrated instruments and the sorry state of the University’s library.

“Good morning,” says Andrew one day, about a year after the wyrmling’s birth.

“Good morning!” chirps the wyrmling.


	6. Chapter 6

_Good morning_ , in and by itself, doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t mean she can talk, not really. Doesn’t make her a _person_.

Crows, after all, have a limited ability to imitate human speach. It doesn’t make them _people_.

Still. It’s an interesting discovery.

The problem is, the wyrmling’s speech develops quickly afterwards, and soon, it starts answering questions.

It starts _asking_ them.

There’s a part of Andrew that wants to ignore it. Pretend it’s just a dumb animal, and use everything he learns to confirm this belief. It would be so much more comfortable.

But that’s not who Andrew is.

Lying to himself, and twisting facts to fit his theory, rather than his theory to fit the facts… That’s not him.

The wyrmling…

It’s capable of thought. 

_She_ is capable of thought. 

She’s a _person_.

Andrew thinks about the unborn wyrmlings floating in their big glass jars, the ones he killed, _one by one_ ,and empties his stomach on the floor.


	7. Chapter 7

Andrew names the wyrmling Theresa.

Theresa is curious, always asking questions about how things work, and why, and what they are for, and Andrew can barely keep up with her.

Theresa is very smart, a genius by human standards, and Andrew doesn’t know if it’s a dragon trait or, well, a Theresa one.

To distract her, Andrew teaches her to read, and then unleashes her on the library. He had asked for the books from his home to be sent there, and bought some more from passing travelers or the closest towns, and is starting to have a quite respectable collection.

Theresa goes through them faster than a forest fire, showing equal enjoyment for folktales and algebra.

A year passes, then two, then three. Some of Theresa’s scales start taking a golden tinge. Her wings grow enough to let her fly. 

Andrew decides to teach Theresa alchemy. Theresa starts calling him ‘Father’.

Andrew wonders if that’s how having a child is supposed to feel.

(He doesn’t tell her about her unborn siblings, dead in their glass jars.)


	8. Chapter 8

Andrew loves Theresa the way he thinks he would love a daughter, cares about her, wants to see her thrive.

Andrew worries about Theresa.

He worries she will learn of what happened to her unborn siblings, of what he did to them, and will want to take revenge on him, the University, the Court, the world. 

He worries she will grow to be a monster, for there are many she could kill before dying in her turn. 

He worries that she will grow up and leave the tower in the castle ruins, that she will want to go and see the world, that she won’t be ready.

He worries she will go to someone expecting kindness, and will get hurt or killed for her troubles. Dragons, after all, are seen as beasts of destruction, and as dangerous as she could be, so are people when they believe their backs to be to the wall. 

He worries his assurances to the University and Court won’t be enough, and they will send someone to destroy her, for people are quick to act when they are scared, and those in power fear what they cannot control.


	9. Chapter 9

Andrew forges chains for Theresa.

He does it slowly, when she isn’t looking, so that she won’t get spooked and attempt to stop him. He does it while she reads, or works on an experiment, or flies around the tower.

Andrew forges chains to keep Theresa to the tower, away from those who might hurt her.

Away from those _she_ might hurt.

Andrew forges a geas so that she will bow to the will of the Court, so as not to give them an excuse to hurt her.

So that they can stop her from hurting others.

Andrew forges the chains slowly, but he forges them.

They are not made of iron or gold, or anything that can be touched, and they are all the more strong for it.

(He writes what he did on an hidden sheet of parchment in case he dies before gathering the courage to tell Theresa what he did.)


	10. Chapter 10

Andrew doesn’t think Theresa is an adult quite yet, but she is grown enough to stay on her own for a while, and Andrew misses the company of other humans.

Theresa is smart and kind, but sometimes, Andrew really wants to talk to another adult.

With a carriage, there’s about a week of travel from the tower to the University and Court. Two weeks taking the return journey in account.

Theresa can stay alone for a month. It’s not that long, and Andrew won’t always be there. 

The first part of the journey goes well, and so does the week and half Andrew spends at the University. He meets back with old friends, buy a few books, inform himself of the last discoveries and advances, and presents his own findings to his peers.

He has a good time.

The journey back is harder, as it storms and rains continuously. It might have been safer to stay at the University to wait for better weather, but Andrew doesn’t want to leave Theresa on her own too long. She is still young. 

About two days from the tower, there’s a bridge over a river, and the river, swollen by the rain, roars with unusual fury.

The bridge breaks under the weight of the carriage, and Andrew Richter is precipitated into the water below.

He never comes back up.


	11. Epilogue

Father should be back by now.

He was supposed to only be gone for about a month. The latest estimate for his return date was two weeks ago.

He should be back.

Theresa is scared. She had never been alone for so long before.

_He should be back._

Maybe something happened to hold him back. Maybe he needs help. 

There are maps in the library. Theresa could look for the way to the University, and follow it.

Maybe he needs help. Maybe she could help him.

It’s scary. Theresa never left the tower before, not for long, not for more than a quick fly in the sky around it.

But she could help him. He’s her father. She misses him.

She _needs_ him.

(She cannot get through the tower door.)


End file.
